


Mutatis Mutandis

by Esbe



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Blindness, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esbe/pseuds/Esbe
Summary: Mutatis Mutandis: (used when comparing two or more cases or situations) making necessary alterations while not affecting the main point at issue.-Definitions from Oxford LanguagesCourtesy of GoogleI chose to call the fic so because no matter what in my mind the situation between them will be the same and I'm just trying to work around what is canonical with just one change which I feel wont make a whit of difference to the efficacy of Jeeves or the besottedness of Bertie. So there.
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 9
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've got it all plotted but there's still a lot yet to be written.  
> Please note that this is a WIP. If you hate those then I'm afraid you'll have to subscribe and wait. 
> 
> On the other hand if you are one of the regulars and know I'll never let anything stay incomplete even if I take weeks to write and edit then please pleasse read and let me know what you think. I have a few chapters in already that I will edit and try to post one per week (still shortish chapters like always I'm sorry)  
> Feel free to suggest what may happen. How much angst should I put them through or which deux ex machina can we use. Feel free to suggest canonical bits that could be added as well. Basically yes its open season right now. Let's have fun!

###  _From the archive of all things on the internet. This is the second volume of the transliteration of the papers of Bertram Wilbeforce Wooster, Lord Yaxley and Sir Reginald Jeeves, KBE._

> _DEAR voyeur of other people’s diaries. These are private papers and if you decide to read them in spite of this then you have only yourself to blame. They are being written in the lazy afternoon of my life after Jeeves and I had become flesh of flesh. It exists only as a record, for our mutual pleasure, of how we reached the point. They are possibly fruitier than my average published works (should those have similarly survived). The reason why this has been typed on a Hall and not a Remington should be clear if you know Jeeves and me._

*****

Jeeves was meticulously polishing the silver and arranging it all in some muslin lined boxes for the upcoming holiday. He never just leaves the home and hearth but boxes it all up properly and upon our return et viola! The h. and h. is ready to welcome us fresh as daisies. Why is it daisies? Roses can be fresh or daffodils or bluebells. Perchance some erstwhile daisies got cheeky with some scholar of yore and he slapped them with that epithet out of spite. Scholars can be quite spiteful – nasty tempers and no humour. Did I ever tell you about the Dean at Magdalene after the— there is no need for that cough Jeeves. You may want to edit this as I write it but do let me finish typing one sheet at least. Your wandering fingers are as welcome on this sheet as a Spode is in Berkeley mansions.

Pardon me what were we discussing? Ah yes! Our imminent departure on a sailing-cruise to the Hellenic lands and back littered with many a port betwixt. We would leave at the crack of dawn or thereabouts, a week from the morrow. It would be five weeks before we saw the hallowed precinct of Mayfair again.

The Bianca was a lovely ship in that it had suites for the discerning. I wonder why they call people with enough oof to reserve a suite discerning. What exactly does one discern if one has enough of the ready? It was the suite with two bedrooms, a bath and a place to kick off heels and lounge about should the occasional hermit-like mood strike. Of course the young master wanted to mingle and chug a few with the lads in the evenings and tip his hat to the locals at each port but there is something to be said about not hearing the snores of one’s fellow passengers while in one’s own cocoon. I see a bemused eyebrow raised but I say – live in a dormitory bursting to full with Eton boys for a few years and then divvy rooms with Ginger and Bingo till you doff your mortarboard, and then give yours truly that eyebrow.

Plus it would also help Jeeves. It is better to have him no further than a few yards from his field of duty. He refused to be fully off-duty even while we were on holiday. The feudal spirit and all that.

I had to be off to the Drones to let the boys know that this Wooster shall not be about for a few weeks.

I had scarcely reached the door when Jeeves materialised out of thin air and a gentle cough. “Mr. Wooster, sir. If I may.”

“Off to the Drones, Jeeves. Toodle pip.”

“Of course. Here’s your tie, sir.”

“Already swaddled the neck, Jeeves,” I reached out for the doorknob but his form manifested itself betwixt the portcullis and me and I knew the battle was lost. He deftly exchanged my natty golden tie (I had a feeling it would soon find a fiery demise) with a sombre blue one and my smashing spats were gently but very firmly replaced by gleaming patent leather black that no don from either shores could fie upon. Finally he handed me my hat and pronounced me fit to be inflicted upon the metrop.

*****

The Drones all know of my man and many know him as well. They hold him in high regard. Just the other day Bingo and Ginger held forth on the subject at length.

For a man in his position, _id est_ a gentleman’s gentleman, having a trustworthy master is of the utmost importance to Jeeves. One would never think it to see him around the flat of course, or even out and about saving near and dear ones of the t. m. or the t. m. himself. But I know. He lets out nary a twitch when a horde of drunken Drones swarms in for some jollification and leaves it in as un-Jeevesian a state as one can imagine. But there is but one thing. He doesn’t need his dark glasses and white wand indoors and so the lads never noticed. Which is for the best. Biffy wouldn’t believe it when Bingo first exclaimed about it.

“What do you mean he can’t see? You said he switched your purple tie with this grey one!” protested Biffy pointing an accusatory finger at me.

“Lilac! That tie is lilac,” sooth I.

“It’s purple, Bertie. He is honest to god blind, Biffy. He even wears those dark glasses when he is walking out,” quoth Bingo.

Jeeves can see of course, but rather vaguely. We are all mere bobbing blobs to him. The man himself conveyed it at the beginning of his employment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the working title was actually Blind Jeeves. (*hides face in shame*)  
> I'm having difficulty figuring out how he can do certain things (like attending to Bertie during dinner at Dalhia's place) cos while Jeeves is a smart chap there are ways a visually challenged person learns spaces which is very different to someone minus that challenge. And yes I did take a cop out by ensuring that he could see somewhat!. The idea is from an article about someone who could 'see' but is _legally_ blind.  
> Also I must give a heartfelt nod to gracefultree for their beautiful [ Jeeves and the Blind Master](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265727/chapters/7121711). This is nothing like their fic. But in case I've unthinkingly borrowed any of their ideas PLEASE please tell me. I don't want to plagiarise and will be very thankful to you for pointing it out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning

I opened the door at an earlyish hour after a boisterous evening at Corky’s rooms in the company of Drones, non-Drones and an overflowing bar. It was a jolt to see an impeccable chappie carrying a white cane and placing dark glasses into a pocket, at your door, when the gnomes in your head are going hammer and tongs. I am grateful that the windows of the Wooster sanctum face south. It makes for chilly winters but that’s what fires are for.

Within a few minutes I had been herded back to the bed, a glass of something had miracled the mush back to brains, and the tray he brought in was a ~~figment~~ fragment of bliss. When I finally dressed myself and toddled to the sitting room, it could have passed a barracks inspection. Not a single stray mote of dust has dared to domicile on any surface ever since.

“You are hired, my man!” I proclaimed as I hired him and sat down.

He gave a tiny cough that would not have been out of place in an ovine throat.

“Sir, I must insist that you acquaint yourself of my shortcomings before making a decision.”

“Short comings! What rot? Now tell me your appellation and we shall go on as we have begun.”

“Thank you, sir. You are most kind. My name is Reginald Jeeves. Would you like to peruse the letters of recommendations from my erstwhile employers?”

I ignored the envelope in his hand and simply gave a languid wave to say he could carry on. He didn’t. I noticed then that while it seemed that he was looking at my insipid profile it was just a little bit offish of the centre of the map.

“Oh um. No need for those Jeeves.” Surely the agency wouldn’t dare send anyone subpar to Berkeley Mansions especially after the last disaster that they dared name a valet and apropos which they had heard straight from Mrs. Agatha Gregson, nee Wooster.

“If I may continue, sir?”

“Of course, my man, if it helps you.”

“Thank you sir. I have been in service for twenty-one years and my last two positions were as a valet. I served in each of them for over five years.”

I nodded along wondering why he needed to tell me all this and hoping he didn’t need the new master to do any math.

“In both cases we parted on amicable terms upon the matrimonial celebration of my employers.”

“You mean they got married and you handed them the mitten?”

“Yes, sir. I do not wish to serve married gentlemen. It makes for less than congenial circumstances.”

“I fully understand, Jeeves,” I said establishing the brotherhood of both being men of the world.

“I do realise that a man in your position needs a valet of impeccable abilities and senses but I assure you my disabilities, such as they are, will not hamper my duties in any way.”

“Disabilities?” My eyes roved the man, from his brilliantined head to his polished shoe and found nary a disability. All limbs were in place and we had been having a convivial exchange of words so he was neither hard of hearing nor bereft of speech.

“Sir, I am visually impaired.”

“Gah!”

“Quite, sir. I hope you will still see it fit to hire me.” He paused then and it took me a moment to realise he was done.

It takes time for the last of Woosters to get there, but once he does he shall not be deterred. I had indeed reached there by now and so I entered into the spirit or perhaps it was the spirit of Sir Watkyn Bassett that entered me for I spoke in a determinedly magistrate like tone.

“Jeeves?”

“Sir.”

“Were you blind when you entered the flat?” I asked in that very same tone. I could see that I had surprised him (a tiny flicker of an eyebrow about one-eighth of an inch).

“Yes, sir.” The sure notes in his voice however, had given way to a somewhat doubtful tone.

“And you were blind when you got me that elixir of life that restored the brains?”

“Yes, sir.” There were the beginnings of a smile then (little did I know that that was the blasted smile itself but then our acquaintance was yet green).

“How about when you made the eggs and Darjeeling?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And this room was returned to this impeccable state by you while still being blind?”

“Yes, sir. It is indeed an unalterable and on-going condition.” Ah a hint of humour!

“Well then, what is the problem?”

The corner of his lip quirked again at that, though the rest of his map could have sworn an oath that there was no smiling involved. “I may need more time to perform certain tasks, sir.”

“Take as much,” I waved an impervious hand or was it imperious. “What else?”

The fingers holding the envelope tightened just a bit.

“Will you take lunch at home, sir?”

And that, as they say, was that.

*****

It was fortunate that I hired the man for he fortuitously extracted me from my not so fortuitous engagement to Honoria within a week. He would go on to both get me into and extract me from many more engagements and entanglements during the course of our association and my marvelled amazement at his fish fed brain would never cease. By the end of that week I had almost forgotten that his oglers weren’t truly obliging.

He has a marvellous watch, which he touches to tell time. It has never dared to be wrong so far. The swedes on the platter this morning were exactly as they have always been with precise half-inch edges. Jeeves has never served someone a b. & s. when they ask for a g. & t., the bottles are labelled with some cards with raised dots that he calls ~~Brill~~ Braille. Which is exactly like these papers except he used a stylus and a very odd looking ruler instead of this Hall. I’m sure he could tell the contents and level of each decanter simply by a single sniff and heave. He smells, touches or feels things to know them, memorise them, and keep them in exactly the same place each time. In the larger scheme of things this is but a smallish hitch. I firmly believe that he sees with more than his e.s.

He discovered my whims quicker than all his predecessors, and my morning tea was always presented with a fresh bloom in a bud vase, which chuffed me up after a late night out and sometimes found it’s way into a snug buttonhole. Not once was the flower out of place with the tie of the day. Jeeves, as a matter of course, would not allow the young master to leave the flat, or even sit about the flat, looking anything less than perfectly put together.

That was one of the first things my cousin Angela noticed when I joined her at Brinkley Court a few weeks after Jeeves came to me. She and Tuppy were in the midst of a row about Angela’s shark and Tuppy’s appetite.

“Bertie,” she said. “You look absolutely dashing. Have you finally learned how to dress yourself?”

My Aunt Dahlia was equally impressed. “Perhaps you’ve managed to make one good decision in your life, young blot,” she muttered, and let me tell you that she gave Jeeves a very calculating once-over at this juncture, before sending him off downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to see how much of canon I can keep but it is danged difficult. I'm thinking of ignoring the whole homophobia which in itself would be a HUGE departure. So after that I don't want anything OOC or too out of canon either.
> 
> Well so this is being typed on a Braille typewriter by Bertie and someone is transliterating it in our times to archive it.  
> My headcanon says that Bertie is typing it when they've 'retired' and are much older. And that Jeeves is being an absolute brat by trying to read as Bertie types (kinda like reading over the shoulder but in this case more like keeping on touching the paper while it's typed.  
> So Bertie keeps striking out the wrong stuff and correcting it.
> 
> FYI I assume that they met sometime during 1924.
> 
> Watches adapted for the visually challenged have been manufactured since WWII. I dont know when the first watch was made but lets assume Jeeves has one.
> 
> Thanks to [lavengro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavengro/pseuds/lavengro) who read that horrid first draft and was actually happy about it! They suggested five interesting titles after just one read when I who wrote it was still calling it Blind Jeeves! May we all be blessed with someone like them in our lives. (No you cannot have lavengro. They are mine and I wont share)


End file.
